


Leafling

by Laurelin (Lintelomiel)



Series: Pilgrim [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Parent Thranduil, Young Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintelomiel/pseuds/Laurelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a midwinter night in Mirkwood, and Thranduil is worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leafling

**Author's Note:**

> This little story was my Christmas gift to fandom in 2012.

Thranduil woke in the middle of the night with an uncomfortably full bladder. Carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping wife, he pushed the covers aside and sat up on the side of the bed to use the chamber pot. It was the heart of Mirkwood winter, and he barely suppressed a curse when his feet touched the stone cold floor. Where had he left his damned slippers?

He quickly did his business, wanting nothing more than to get back under the covers and seek his wife’s warm body once more, but the nightly chill planted a seed of concern in his mind that caused him to hesitate.

After a few moments Arasien began to stir behind him. In a sleepy voice she called, “Thranduil…? Come back to bed.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think I should go check on the baby?”

“The baby? Why?”

“It is freezing, and Galion won’t make his round for another few hours. I worry that the leafling may be cold.”

“I’m sure he is just fine, love. If he was uncomfortable in any way, he would let us know.”

“Probably so, but…” He reached for his robe and put it on as he rose to his feet. “My mind will not be at ease until I have seen him.”

“As you wish.” She yawned. “Put your slippers on. I will not be happy if you come back to bed with ice cold feet.”

Thranduil smirked. “Yes, my queen.” He tied his robe at the waist and wandered out of the bedchamber, to the nursery in the adjacent room. All was perfectly quiet in there, and as Thranduil approached the cot, he saw what he had been hoping to see: a securely tucked-in elfling, fast asleep. Reassured, Thranduil lingered a moment to watch his firstborn, who was sleeping the sleep of the innocent, sucking on his chubby little fist. He was his parents’ joy, eight months old now and teething, and all who saw him agreed that he had his father’s smile and his mother’s eyes and temperament. The King smiled as he gazed with tenderness upon the precious little creature that had made his life so much richer. There was no end to the wonders of watching a child grow, and how quickly it went! What sort of man would the little prince become? What would his pursuits, his passions be? Time would tell, but one thing was already certain: his father would always and unconditionally be proud of him.

Thranduil couldn’t resist. Without making a sound, he leaned down and softly kissed the top of his son’s head. The blond baby curls tickled his nose.

“Ada loves you, Legolas,” he murmured. “Ada loves you very much.”


End file.
